


The Second to Last Chapter

by Dragonist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fantasy, Foreplay, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonist/pseuds/Dragonist
Summary: Sasuke's back, and Sakura's still a virgin. She wishes Kakashi-sensei would help with that.





	1. Chapter 1

Having Sasuke back is frustrating. 

It's not that it isn't wonderful. She's been dreaming of this ever since she was twelve years old and woke up on a bench with the other half of her preteen heart missing. 

It's just different from what she expected. Way, way different.

For years, all she could think about was doing whatever she had to do to make her team whole. She learned to heal and fight and somehow ultimately ended up punching out a goddess, with more lives than she could count saved thanks to her clever fingers.

And somehow, still, even when she's got her whole team back together again, when she feels like she's only one chapter away from the ending that sees her married happily ever after to her childhood prince, the only fingers she's ever had inside of her are her own.

Sakura shivers. She's lying in her bed, alone. She's got a brand new copy of Icha Icha spread open in front of her, courtesy of Kakashi-sensei. She had meant to throw it out as soon he handed it to her, but Naruto had thrown such a fit over it, she wanted to keep it to hold over his head.

Sasuke, of course, hadn't seemed to care one way or another. She doesn't remember the day that stopped meaning her world was ending.

She closes her eyes and bites her lips just to wallow in the sensation of it. Her lips are chapped. They feel odd under the soft, warm tip of her tongue. She's a master of the human body. Show her an ailment, and she'll give you a solution; but even she can't explain the ache at the base of her throat, the way her mouth keeps filling with saliva.

She's wearing some cheap cotton shirt. The fabric is worn soft from age, but it still catches distractingly on her chest. Her sports bra is long since tossed to the floor, and when she glances down at herself, she can see the tiny buds trying to form underneath the thin fabric.

Hesitantly, she lets her hand slip underneath the loose collar. Her fingers hover just above her flushed skin.

Unconsciously, she licks her lips again. She wonders if it would feel different, to be lying here. Not alone. To have the taste of someone else's lips on her tongue; the rough pads of someone else's fingers slipping ever so slowly across her pebbled nipples.

She's got a mission with Team Seven tomorrow, which is going to be embarrassing for a whole host of reasons she'll have to try her hardest to repress in the morning.

Reason numero uno: the way Kakashi-sensei had cocked his head when he'd handed her this book, the edge of his glove scratching against her palm like flint on steel. Just thinking about it, the heavy weight of his voice, reignites the wild fire starting in her cheeks and quickly racing down towards the burning ache between her thighs.

Intellectually, she knows Kakashi-sensei would be a terrible boyfriend for a thousand reasons. Like how even in her head, she can't quite think his name without appending “sensei”. That should be a good enough justification to call quits to the whole affair.

Like this, with her fingernails scratching ever so lightly against her slowly hardening nipples, all it does is tease her further. She can picture Naruto as a jounin sensei already, wholesome and bright with a pack of brats he can torture to his heart's content.

Kakashi-sensei, however.

Sakura whimpers. It's not that she has to, that she feels so amazing she can't help it, or that she's doing it to impress someone in her empty apartment. She whimpers because it feels good, to let the tiniest of sounds leak out from her lips, like she has to keep quiet because she's a naughty girl and her sensei's in her room, teaching her how to touch herself in a way that's satisfying instead of just terribly, horribly frustrating.

She wonders if he ever does the same. Tucks himself into his own empty apartment. Places one of his neverending dirty books on the bed with him. Closes his eyes and imagines her lying underneath him, pink hair fanning across his pillow and sensei on her lips.

It's not that she doesn't respect him. She knows he's an amazing shinobi. She'd trust him with her life, knows she could go to him for anything and have him try his hardest, in his own special way, to help her.

She wonders if it's insubordinate to imagine the ways he could help her.

Like.

“Sensei,” she says after sparring. Naruto and Sasuke have already run off. She's sitting on the grass, lips pursed, trying to stretch out a tricky muscle in her thigh.

She's a medic nin. The best in the whole village, if she wants to brag. So when she calls him over, the request implicit, they both know what she's really asking for.

“Sakura-chan,” he says, just as he did when she was twelve. Somehow that makes it naughtier, the way he places his big, hot hand on her thigh without asking any permission. “Is everything okay?”

His thumb is already moving in slow, lazy circles. She licks her dry lips. He notices. He's close enough that she can see his pupils flare and contract.

“Can you help me stretch this out,” is all she says. “I think I pulled something.”

“Of course,” he says. His voice is hungry. “Kakashi-sensei would do anything for his favorite student.”

He unwraps the bandages from her legs. Somehow he makes even that sensual. They're sitting at the training ground, a stone's throw away from the hustle and bustle of Konoha, but somehow all her senses are full of him.

The strength in his hands, as he carefully slides them up her calf. The heat of his gaze. Somehow his eye on her burns hotter than the summer sun, like a white hot brand she desperately wants focused on her skin. His nose twitches underneath his mask, and she wonders if he can smell her like she smells him, sweaty and musky and positively filthy. She wants to throw him in the baths and climb in after him, use her body as a sponge and rub him clean. 

“How's this?” he says, and his voice is an octave deeper than normal. His fingers dig in at just the right places, teasing and relaxing her tired muscles even as he wakes up other, unused ones. It's so good she can't help but to lie down, tossing her hair in the grass and arching her back, her neck, her hips.

“Kakashi-sensei,” she says, the words thick like molasses in her mouth, “harder.”

For a second, his fingers grip her punishingly tight, and she moans her displeasure. “Ah, sorry, sorry Sakura-chan,” he finally says. Her eyes are closed, so she feels rather than sees him shift. He pulls her leg in his lap, fingers drumming along her outer thigh in apology. “Sensei will be more careful.”

Her other leg curves behind his back, and she presses it against him, reveling in the feeling of having him trapped between her thighs. “Can you rub a little higher, Kakashi-sensei?” 

His fingers trail up. “Here?” he asks, his strong fingers rubbing and pushing and pressing an inch from the crease of her thighs. 

Her blood is pounding in her veins. She waits, but he makes her ask for it. “A little higher,” she says, fingers twisting in the grass.

He pushes up the clingy fabric of her shorts as he goes. It's indecent, to be lying in a training field in the middle of the village, where anyone could walk by, with her sensei's hand up her pants.

“Oh?” he says, his voice filled with an innocent sort of surprise. “Sakura-chan, did you forget to wear your panties today?”

His fingers are everywhere except where she needs them, hot and strong and callused against her thighs, her hips, her stomach, her untrimmed pubic hair. “Ah,” she stammers, “sorry sensei. I think I might have.”

Her shorts are stretchy, but not that stretchy. Kakashi-sensei must tire of the workout, because at her words he promptly twists her other leg into his lap and pulls her little shorts down. They wrap tight around her plush thighs, holding her legs together.

“You definitely forgot,” he says. He's got one hand under her ass, hoisting her lower half up in the air so he can double check, and she can feel the skin across her hips tighten as his hot breath teases it.

“Oh, sensei,” she chokes and squeezes her thighs together. Her clit is aching, starving for the slightest sensation. She can't help but move, pressing her legs as close together as she can as she rocks helplessly in search of some sort of friction, arching her hips towards him in a silent plea to help himself.

His blunt fingernails dig hard into her hips, so, so far from where she wants to feel him. “Careful Sakura-chan,” he chides her. “You almost hit me. You've broken this poor old man's nose enough, don't you think?”

She literally sobs. His fingers are still gripping her hips so tightly, he's trembling. She can feel every word he says drifting across what little of her puffy pussy can be reached between her clenched thighs. He wants this. He wants this too. He wants her so badly she can feel his lauded self control shaking from having to hold himself back from her.

“Sorry, Kakashi-sensei,” she finally chokes out. A breeze wafts by, and the sudden wind causes a chill to race down her curved spine.

Kakashi-sensei tuts in faux disgrace. “And you've gotten my hand all wet,” he says, squeezing her ass as he supports her. When she instinctively rolls her hips at the heavy sound of his voice, her skin brushes the rough fabric of his mask.

“Maybe you could dry me off,” she says desperately. It should be uncomfortable, the way her back arches, the grassy ground hard against her shoulders. Somehow it just all serves to highlight the fever running through her body. She wants him to touch her, needs him to touch her, wants and needs so much and so hard she can taste it.

“Maybe I could dry you off…?” She can feel his lips moving behind the mask against her thighs. It's too much, and she wants his sarcastic mouth between them so badly her restraint snaps along with her shorts when she jerks her thighs apart.

She's an accomplished shinobi, so it's easy to hook one leg around his throat as she pushes off from the ground. She twists, letting him guide her momentum, and lands crouched above his collarbones.

“Maybe you could dry me off, please, Kakashi-sensei,” she says properly, like a good little girl should. To highlight her point, she lets her aching thighs collapse and can't hold back a deep, throaty moan when her pussy rubs against the smooth fabric of his flak jacket.

When she looks him in the eye, his pupil is so blown she fantasises about playing doctor with him. His mouth is slack underneath the mask. She places her right hand against the curve of his cheek, letting her thumb press in between his lips.

The pad of her thumb is so unbelievably sensitive, her nerves firing into overdrive, that just the rasp of the wet fabric against it makes her shiver. She licks her lips helplessly as he bites down with just the slightest force.

“Sensei's already told you he'd do anything you needed,” he says. Despite his disaffected words, his voice is dark and husky. The feel of it vibrating against her, the soft caress of his mask, sends such subtle waves of teasing pleasure down her body that she runs her other thumb against her own mouth.

She has to close her eyes. She traces her lips as lightly as she can, and what usually might tickle instead lights her up like festival fireworks, beautiful and powerful and blinding. She lets her thumb spread her lips the slightest bit, just enough to lick and suck the tip of it, and she can feel Kakashi-sensei curse beneath her.

“Let me help you, Sakura-chan,” but he's telling her, not asking her, as he anchors his burning hot hands on her hips to pull her towards him. She's naked from the waist down, and it feels so good to be exposed against the summer sun that her other hand leaves Kakashi-sensei’s mouth to pull distractedly at her own shirt.

She can imagine herself, cheeks flushed and hair mussed, trembling thighs glistening against his uniform, worshiping one thumb with her mouth as her other hand fights desperately with the hem of her shirt. She must look as good as she pictures herself, because suddenly she's pushed firmly onto Kakashi-sensei’s lap.

“You look a little hot,” he says, his shoulders bent so his words rasp into her neck. She's crushed so tightly against him it's hard to get her arms free, but there's no man on earth that's stronger than she is. She wraps both hands around his muscled back, whimpering helplessly at the breadth of him.

“Let me help you get this tight little shirt off before we get it all dirty,” Kakashi-sensei says. He's right against her ear, and the feel of the fabric of his mask rubbing against her is like nothing she's ever felt before. She shudders away and towards him, torn, overwhelmed.

He must like the feeling of her squirming around his lap because for the first time in her life, she hears him choke back a moan. It's hot and wrecked and desperate and so, so good vibrating against her ear that she struggles harder, grasping and pulling and rubbing herself on any part of him she can reach.

“Kakashi-sensei,” she stutters, and he rips the shirt off of her. Her sports bra goes next, and then she's sitting on her fully clothed and masked sensei's lap, naked as the day she was born.

“Mah,” he says. His voice is wild, uncontrolled and dangerous. She swears she can feel her pussy opening up, gushing wetness at the sound of it. “Sensei will buy you a new one.”

Her clothes are a torn, tattered pile of rags, but when she places a hand flat against her sensei's chest and pushes, she feels like the richest girl in the world. She doesn't even have to use a fraction of her strength - she's so worked up she doesn't think she could if she needed to - but he still moves like water underneath her touch. He flows backward, obediently falling back where she wills him, but the edges of him arch around her. His hands are hot on her back, gloves scratching deliciously against her soft skin. His eyes sear into her, drinking her up breasts, her pebbled nipples, the fall of her hair over her shoulders, like he'd die if he had to look away. 

When his head finally hits the grass, she means to pull up, but he locks his hands tight around her and fits her against him. It makes her feel strangely vulnerable, in a way grinding helplessly on his lap hadn't, to be lying chastely on top of her sensei in public, naked save for his arms wrapped around her. 

“Sensei?” She turns her head to ask against his neck. His hair tickles her face.

“Ah, just a second Sakura-chan.” One of his hands makes its way up and down her back, tracing some sort of last design. His touch is so light and so far from where she needs it, she shivers.

“Please, Kakashi-sensei.” It's subtle, but she can feel him now, his hips twitching against her thighs. She's never hated him for being taller than she is until this moment.

This time, he doesn't fight her when she pushes herself up, bare breasts swaying gently. She whimpers when one nipple scrapes against his chest. His fingers dig themselves into her back.

“I need you,” she confesses. 

“You're just trying to trick an old man into showing his face,” he says, but his hands are already untying and peeling away the cloth as he protests. She barely has time to recognize his sharp cheekbones, the noble curve of his lips, before his hands on her back are shoving her closer.

She expects him to latch onto her breast like a babe wanting milk, to suck hard and fast and hungry. Instead, he pulls her just close enough that his parted lips barely brush her skin, her nipple frustratingly untouched in the moist heat of his mouth.

He tortures her. There's no other word for it, for the way he gently licks and nips and sucks at her skin, never exactly where she wants it. His own legs are wrapped around hers, keeping her knees locked tight together. Her arms shudder with the effort of keeping her upper body aloft.

The first time he deigns to lick her nipple, she cries out at the hot shock of it. “Oh Kakashi-sensei, please,” she begs and begs and doesn't even know what for. She wants it to last forever, the icy cool contrast when he exhales softly across her wet peak. He's got his hand dancing around her left breast so it isn't neglected. His fingers skate across her, barely touching her skin as they jump from her collarbone to her hip, the anticipation making each random caress of her aching breast burn like she's been set alight.

“How can you be so goddamn beautiful,” sensei says, and he says it low and ugly like she isn't supposed to hear. He says it like she's doing it on purpose, taunting him with the treasures of her body that they both know he shouldn't be seeing.

It's too much. Suddenly she can't take it any longer, and she's climbing up him like a tree. “Yes,” he says, his voice dark and heavy with worship, “fuck yes, Sakura please,” and somehow the fact that he's so far gone, too distracted with her body to tease her with his words, makes her hotter than anything else. “Sakura,” and it sounds so indecent on his lips, so intimate, “give to me, give me your little pussy, that's it, please,” so wrecked and desperate that she can't hold back, power and desire thrumming through her body, and she muffles her sensei's cries with her cunt.

“Kakashi-sensei,” she chokes. He's not hesitating at all. He's got his hands on her hips, holding her where he wants her, which is right there on his face. He eats into her like a man possessed, like he's starving and she's the first harvest of the season. She falls forward, catching herself at the last second, and his hair tickles the sensitive skin of her stomach. All she can feel is his touch. He snakes one hand in between them, grasping and squeezing and mauling her breast, and she cries out again at the rough treatment.

“Kakashi-sensei, please!” She begs and she still doesn't know what for, if she wants more or if she wants less. Everything he is doing is perfect; she's so worked up he could probably just hold her still and breath against her and that would leave her throbbing. Helpless, she grinds harder into his mouth, her hips shaking as he moans into her.

Suddenly, she has to support her own weight, because he's still got one hand switching between her breasts, but the other is somehow squirming right around her. It's almost too much, his lips and his tongue licking and kissing her and pushing their way through her folds, his nose grinding into her pubic hair, and then there's his fingers too, sliding and slipping and feeling their way around his tongue. One pushes into her, just the first knuckle, then the second, and she collapses, face down in the grass and her sensei working insistently inside her.

She's so close she can see it, the edges of her vision hazy with blood rushing desire. She moans wantonly when his hand leaves her breast. “It's okay,” Kakashi-sensei shushes her. He's got one finger inside of her and the other hand wrapped tight around the curve of her hip. That's all he needs to lift her. She's strong, but he's strong too. When she looks at him, she still sees the unimpeachable twenty-something she'd hesitantly introduced herself to, powerful and dangerous and broken as all great shinobi are.

“I'm going to take such good care of you,” he says against her cunt, lips barely brushing hers as he speaks. She shudders at the vibrations, something curling deep in her stomach. Her breath comes in great gasps, shudder after shudder, and she keens when he places one soft kiss to the tip of her clitoris.

“Kakashi-sensei,” she chokes, “please.”

And he snarls, there's no other word for it, lips vibrating and tongue flicking out to taste her, and she can't hold back anymore. She cramps up, one tightly wound mess of, “please sensei please, more,” and he eats her out like he'll die if he stops tasting her.

He flips them over. For half a second, he towers above her. His face is wrecked, glistening from her wetness, lips swollen and flushed pink from his cheeks straight down his neck. She meets his eyes for the barest of moments, and the unrepressed hunger of his gaze drives the breath from her lungs as thoroughly as his dive back towards her cunt. 

She's shuddering so violently she has to close her eyes, chunks of grassy earth coming loose in her fists, bucking her hips as hard as she can against his damnably clever mouth, unable to think or feel or say anything but, “Kakashi-sensei!”

She gasps for breath. Her whimpers echo strangely. When she opens her eyes, it's the plain egg shell white of her ceiling that greets her.

She takes her hand out of her panties, wipes it distractedly on her sheets. She collapses on her stomach, staring blankly at the pristine copy of her sensei's book on her bed.

Even though she knows it's going to be awkward, she can't wait until tomorrow


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura gets him shirtless in her bed

Their mission goes fine, relatively speaking. Tsunade takes their report and fondly throws Naruto out on his ass. He's arguing with Sasuke, puffed up and practically spitting over whatever inane contest he's made up between them this time. She doesn't understand how the two of them always have so much energy.

“Where would you like to go for dinner, Sakura-chan?” She almost jumps at his voice, smooth and lazy like fresh hot caramels on a rainy day. He's so close to her that she can feel the soft puff of his breath as he exhales. She turns up to face him as he slips an arm over her shoulder. There's a bandage wrapped around his side that she just finished lecturing him for, so she takes his weight good naturedly as they walk down the streets.

“Um,” she says, licking the salt off her lips and frantically trying to remember where they're at, but “dinner?” is all she manages to come up with.

Kakashi-sensei smiles at her. She likes it when he smiles. He smiles with his whole body, eye closing, mask crinkling, shoulders slumping towards her. He stumbles as they walk off the curb, and she wraps her arm around his waist to steady him. It's distracting. He's a good sensei and she's a good student, and there's nothing more to their relationship, but it does terrible things to her pulse to have him so close to her.

“Let's get ramen!” Naruto says. He's jerking Sasuke along by the wrist. Sakura fights the urge to roll her eyes as she delicately tugs sensei away from his wildly waving arms. “Victory ramen is the best!”

Sasuke isn't holding back at all, eyes flicking heavenward as he sparks lightening down their hands. “Moron,” he says as Naruto yelps. “We had ramen last time.”

“Now, now boys,” Kakashi-sensei says. He smacks Sasuke on the top of his head with his little orange book. “Play nicely! It's Sakura-chan's turn to pick.”

Even after all this time, she still feels nervous having all of their eyes on her. “How about barbeque?” she asks, looking up at sensei. He could use some iron. She's still a bit worried about how much blood he lost, but she's given up on ever trying to force him to go to the hospital.

“Barbeque it is,” he says, sunny smile back in place. Predictably, this prompts a long winded rant from Naruto on the glories of ramen, but she lets Sasuke bear the brunt of it.

The restaurant is packed. Somehow, between Kakashi-sensei conspicuously whipping out his orange novel and Naruto being the loud bother he always is, they are quickly shuffled off to a booth in the back. The seats are a comfy black leather. Sakura slides in and pulls Kakashi-sensei in after her before Naruto can pick a fight about the seating arrangements. Their knees brush.

“Don't sit close to me, bastard,” Naruto says, jabbing Sasuke with his elbow as he slides in after him. Sakura just flips open her menu, too tired to deal with them.

“What are you thinking of having, sensei?” she asks. She can't decide between the burnt ends or the grilled vegetable platter.

“Maybe the eggplant,” he says. He's still got his novel open. He must be too lazy to open up his own menu, because he keeps his other arm on her shoulder as he reads hers. 

His hair tickles the side of her face from where he's got his chin resting on her shoulder, and that must be doing something terrible to his back. She nudges his uninjured side. “You need to work on your posture,” she says.

He laughs quietly, shoulders shaking just the slightest bit with contained mirth. “Are you saying I need to take it easy on my old back?” he says, voice warm. He's teasing her. She feels a blush creep up on her cheeks, and for once she is grateful for the dim mood lighting.

The waiter shows up to take their order, and Naruto and Sasuke both order a ridiculous amount of meat. “If I get the burnt ends, will you share with me?” she asks Kakashi-sensei. 

He takes the menu out of her hands, folds it, and hands it to the waiter. “Burnt ends and a vegetable platter for our side then,” he says. His fingers curl around shoulder. His hands are so large, he can brush his fingertips across her collarbone without even stretching. It's so tempting to imagine what else he could be doing with those large, strong hands, but there is a time and a place, and team dinner night certainty isn't it. Even still, she shivers.

“Are you cold, Sakura-chan?” It's warm in the restaurant, even cosier in the booth. Naruto is stripping out of his jacket before Kakashi-sensei has even finished speaking. 

“I'm way too hot, take this Sakura!” he says, and then he twists back towards Sasuke and resumes yelling at him about the superiority of frogs over hawks. It's an argument they've hdad so often, she could recite the lines for either side.

“Gross,” she says, wincing at the splattered stains she hopes are only mud. She snatches the jacket off the table before it can get too contaminated and then shrugs it on anyway, so it doesn't have to sit crumpled in her lap. She shakes off Kakashi-sensei's arm in the process. Despite the heat of the room, she feels a chill race down her arm at his departure.

She zones out waiting for their food to come. The busy drone of the restaurant is strangely relaxing, and she finds herself slumping forward in her seat. Kakashi-sensei must notice, because he chuckles before shifting her around. He's comfortable to lean on for being made of muscles and bone. She burrows her face deeper into his side, hair catching on the fabric of his vest. 

“Sakura-chan,” he says close to her ear, “wake up.” She opens her eyes blearily. When she pulls herself away from him, she sees there's food steaming on the table. Naruto and Sasuke are determinedly pigging out, so she takes the offered chopsticks and digs in. 

She can't decide if everything really is fantastic or if she's just that hungry. “Try it,” she says, offering Kakashi-sensei a piece of her meat. 

He glances at Naruto and Sasuke and must judge them sufficiently distracted. “Close your eyes,” he says. She's too used to the routine to protest, so she just moves her chopsticks closer to his mouth and obeys. “Very good,” he finally proclaims, and she opens her eyes to see him smiling down at her, mask firmly in place.

She helps herself to the vegetables on his plate and sneaks meat off the boys’ plates and onto his when they're not looking. He needs the calories.

When the waiter comes with the bill, Sakura is almost afraid to look at it after she glances at the tower of dirty plates across the table. Kakashi-sensei opens it before she can work up the nerve and slides one receipt across to Naruto.

“You're not going to pay for your adorable students’ dinner?” Naruto says. Sakura makes eye contact with Sasuke and has to hide a grin behind her hand when he mouths gross and feigns retching.

“Oh, I am,” Kakashi-sensei says. He takes out his wallet and hands a few bills to the waiter. “Come along, Sakura-chan,” he says, gently pulling her towards him. “It's past bedtime for good little girls, I think.”

She silently blushes again because Kakashi-sensei loves being embarrassing them in public. Naruto's not even bothering to hide his snicker of laughter, but she's not going to protest when sensei's actually deigning to pick up the tab for once.

“Night boys,” she says sweetly. They simultaneously flip her off. She and sensei leave them fighting over who should have to tip.

It's cold outside of the restaurant, and she pulls Naruto's jacket tighter around her body, glad she forgot to hand it back to him. She's tired. Somehow having eaten has only magnified how badly she wants to sleep. She's already eyeing a bench and contemplating how uncomfortable it would be to just take a little nap when Kakashi-sensei wraps his arm around her shoulder again. 

“None of that,” he says, not unkindly. “Let's get you to bed.”

It's nice, having sensei pushed up against her, blocking some of the frigid wind. They stumble toward her apartment block, too tired to take the rooftop path. When they finally make it to her door, she digs through her purse and fumbles her keys twice before they make it inside.

“Give me that,” Kakashi-sensei says, and he strips her of Naruto's jacket before she can think to protest. She shivers.

“But it's cold in here,” she says, reaching weakly for its sleeves. Kakashi-sensei bats her hands away gently and pushes her towards the hall. 

“Brush your teeth,” he says, like he can read her mind, and she groans as she steps past her bedroom door and into the bathroom.

“Turn on my heater please,” she says. Winters in Konoha aren't as cold as up north, but she's terrible at staying warm. She brushes her teeth quickly, grimaces at the mirror, and reluctantly takes out some floss.

“Hmm,” Kakashi-sensei says. “Is it supposed to make any noise?”

She rinses her mouth one last time and spits. “Shit,” she says. “I forgot, I meant to call someone to look at it before we left for Kumo.” Even the water from the tap isn't warming up, and it feels like she's rinsing her hands in ice.

When she finally makes it to her bedroom, Kakashi-sensei is lingering awkwardly in the hallway. “Come here,” she says. She sits on her bed. She pats the blanket invitingly, like Kakashi-sensei is a stray dog she's trying to lure in from the snow. “I want to look at your side again before you sleep on it.”

He stares at her for a moment, long enough that when he finally moves towards her, she jolts up. She's more tired than she thought.   
“I'm sure it's fine,” he says complacently even as he doesn't help at all as she struggles to get his vest off of him. She lets it fall to the floor, then tugs at the hem of his shirt.

“Up,” she says through a yawn.

He moves his hands towards the bottom of his shirt slowly. It's unintentionally seductive, and Sakura’s very glad she's too tired to pay too much attention. She's got the lamp at the head of her bed on, the window drapes open, and his pale skin almost shines in the dim light.

“Too hard to see,” she says. She scoots back until her shoulders hit the wall, pulling him after her. 

“Your hands are cold,” is all he says when she peels back the bandage. She winces, because she'd done the best job she could at the time, but his side is only one step away from looking like a slab of raw meat.

“Ow,” he helpfully says as she jabs him with her palm, medical chakra dieing his the hollows of his ribs a minty green, and she swats his head distractedly with her other hand.

“Be more careful then,” she says. She braces one hand on his knee and leans over the side of her bed to dig through her nightstand. She goes through that secret stash of bandages embarrassingly often.

When he huffs out his displeasure, she can see his breath linger in the frozen room. The hair on both their arms is standing up. She snags the covers out from underneath them and smooths them over their legs. Her knee is brushing his thigh, and it's ridiculous how warm he feels even through his thick pants.

“All done,” she says and promptly burrows under her blankets. It's so cold, she almost immediately recoils, bringing her legs up and molding herself to furnace of Kakashi-sensei’s legs.

“Thank you, Sakura-chan.” He ruffles her hair as he says it, but she's too tired to do more than duck her head lower against his thigh in protest. His fingers slide through her hair slower and slower until his hand is just resting there, big and solid and warm. 

“Are you going to let sensei go home now?” he says good-naturedly, and Sakura starts a little up against him. She must have fallen asleep a little without realizing.

“No,” she mumbles. He’s still petting her hair. Her bed is freezing and her apartment is freezing and he is so, so warm. She tugs at his legs, trying to pull him further down underneath the covers.

“No?” he says. He's laughing at her, soft and fond, but she's too sleepy and he's too hot to be slapped for it. 

“Cold,” she says. She sees why he's called a genius when he understands her from that and obligingly lies down next to her. His upper body is chilled from not wearing a shirt, and she whimpers in complaint when she presses herself up against him. 

“Careful.” He gently guides her arm away from his injured side. Safe underneath the blankets, his body heats up quickly, and she happily snuggles against him. She has her face tucked against his neck, one arm half crushed around his shoulder and the other possessively wrapped around his chest. He's rubbing his thumb back and forth across her back, slowly pushing harder and then softer against her sore muscles. If she was a cat, she would purr.

She falls asleep before she even realizes it. When she opens her eyes, her room is still dark. “Hey,” she says sleepily. She tightens her arm around his chest. 

“Sakura-chan,” her sensei says chidingly. His muscles are tense under her palm. She rubs gently at his shoulder, pulling him back towards her.

“Cold,” she says against his neck. His hair tickles her lips. “Need you. You're so warm.” She can feel him swallow.

“You're not going to let me go?” Kakashi-sensei says, but his body is relaxing under hers. She snuggles closer. “Sakura-chan.”

She licks her dry lips, inadvertently tasting slightly salty skin. “No,” she says as she slides her leg between his. He's taller than her, and broader, but even half asleep and chakra deprived, she's stronger than him. He bucks against her one last time before admitting defeat and curling pliantly around her.

“Sleep,” she mumbles and then follows her own advice.


End file.
